Six Years Ago
by Puppets Blizzt
Summary: 2012. Lorelai made a mistake six years ago. So did Luke. He sets out to fix that and ends up getting more than he bargained for. Luke/Lorelai. AU Season 7. One-shot.


I originally wrote this as a songfic to "I Will Remember You," but I decided to take out the lyrics because it ended up not paralleling it as well as I had hoped. The beginning does a good job, I guess, but I changed the ending a bit and... well... it seemed to be better without the lyrics. Maybe you can play the song in your head while you read it instead. (:

Back to the story. I started this a while ago, and I just finished it now. I don't actually remember how I originally wanted it to start, but I know I had a good ending (somewhat better than this one). I don't know how I like it; it was sort of a stream-of-consciousness sort-of-thing. I didn't really plan much out during the last half of the story. I just _wrote_. Basically, this is something I wrote to get my brain juices flowing, and it shouldn't be taken too seriously.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

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><p>Luke Danes stared down at his hands. He balled them into tight fists, his mouth pulled in a tight frown of apartment around him was a gloomy cavern of despair. Dishes piled up in the sink day by day, and soon, he had a mountain of dirty dishware that would probably never get done. When he ran out of clean plates, he bought new ones. He had little energy for anything else. Little motivation.<p>

The light in his life had left, and now there sat an empty lantern, abandoned and dull. Lifeless. His life seemed a lot like that metaphorical lantern; he wasn't proud of that. His eyes surveyed his apartment.

Everything he had held dear to his heart was in a box on the floor. On the side, scribbled in a hasty, unforgiving manner was the word "JUNK." It seemed so bland: _junk_. Maybe some trinkets were inside; an old baseball. Old newspaper clippings.

Anyone who didn't know Luke Danes' past would think so. But he knew the contents, and he glowered at the box with immense distaste.

But even so, he mustered what courage and strength he had left. He stood up, picked up the box with a grunt, and clambered down the thin staircase. Shoving his way through the curtain with a disgruntled glare of annoyance at the nearest customer, he stuck the box under his arm and opened the door with the other. He nodded to Caesar and left.

He didn't allow himself to look at the box. He wasn't going to break down now, in the middle of the street. He wasn't going to give in to the overwhelming desire to lock himself in his apartment and sleep for days, weeks, years. He wasn't going to be the man to fall apart because of a woman, no matter how much he wanted to.

Lorelai Gilmore had been his light, his beacon of hope; his ray of sunshine; his world; his everything. He couldn't delude himself into thinking otherwise, and he didn't even try. He didn't _want _to forget the happiness she had brought him. He didn't _want _to forget the time she had bought him a new suit and insisted he wear it. He didn't _want _to forget all the times he had helped her achieve her dreams; all the times they had spent together.

He mentally slapped himself for being so childish. He couldn't deny that he had pushed Lorelai Gilmore away, but Lorelai couldn't deny that she had gone straight to Christopher the moment things looked sour. That was something he would _never _forget, and it was something that struck a deeply hidden chord with him. Some part of him had always feared he was only second-best to Christopher Hayden, and though he knew it was not her intention to hurt him, his mind deluded him into thinking just that.

He realized now that he should have fought for what they had. He was so willing to give it up, then, that he wanted to go back in time and change all that. He wanted to give Lorelai more attention—divide his time between Lorelai and April. He wanted to make sure Christopher stayed out of the picture forever. He wanted to make sure he put his feelings for Lorelai above everything else.

He marched towards Lorelai Gilmore's house with a determined gait, stopping at nothing until he reached the yard that screamed "Rummage Sale: Nothing Alive or Gross!" It was so Lorelai, and a small smile played across his lips. It was just like her to add something like that to the sign. It reminded him of the day they had first met; she had scrawled a new line into his horoscope; something that had turned out to be a sort of prophecy about their future.

Lorelai's house was a wreck. Heaps of clothes, toys, and other junk littered her house. He could barely get through the door. People rushed past him and raced out of the house, laughing merrily and exchanging news. He moved to avoid them just in time, pressing his back against the doorframe with a grunt.

He walked inside and navigated the maze.

"Cool clothes in the living room, kitchen crap in the kitchen, t…t-awesome toys in Rory's room!" Lorelai called from upstairs. Another Lorelai-like quote. Again, a smile danced onto Luke's face. He couldn't force it away no matter how hard he tried. He looked down at the box in his hands, and it was then he realized what he was about to do. It was enough to force the smile from his face.

Lorelai descended the staircase and gave a nervous smile.

"Luke!" she chirped.

"Ahh, Lorelai," Luke greeted awkwardly, unconsciously pulling the box tighter against his midline.

"What do you have for me?" Lorelai asked. She drew her hands up to her waist and inspected him closely. He tried not to squirm under her gaze and remained rigid where he stood. He focused on her plaid bandana instead.

"Just a few things I don't need… I don't think they fit into any of your categories, though…"

"Well, let's see what'cha got," Lorelai decided. She reached out for the box, and Luke was faced with no other option but handing it to her.

A small sigh escaped his lips, and he almost considered taking it back from her. He shifted nervously as she walked past him and into the kitchen. And he was left with no other choice as he followed close behind.

Lorelai set the box on the only available spot on her kitchen table. She pried it open and sifted through the contents as Luke watched silently, each second feeling longer than the next. His heart pounded in his chest, and Lorelai's silence only added to his nervousness.

"Luke… what—" she stammered, "what am I looking at?"

"What's rightfully yours," Luke answered calmly.

Lorelai picked up one of the contents; an envelope with her name on it. She looked up at him, as if asking for permission to read it now. He said nothing, and she opened it quietly. Inside were several pages of handwritten script. She looked up at him in surprise and pulled out a chair. Dropping herself into it, she settled in to read.

-BREAK.

_June 3__rd__, 2006_

_Lorelai,_

_We were supposed to get married today. It's funny how plans change so quickly. It's been a month since we broke up, and it's given me a lot of time to think:_

_I don't blame you for what happened between us. I take full responsibility for what happened; I should have handled the April situation better. I should have included you; I know how amazing you would be with April. You wanted to be a part of it, and I didn't let you. That's my fault._

_I know you didn't mean to hurt me, but you did. For a while, I was afraid to face you. I thought that every time I saw you, I'd only see him. I'd be reminded of what you did and everything that happened—everything that could have been, if not for my—our—mistake. It's only fair that we both take the blame for our situation._

_No… what happened because of our decisions was not a mistake. I refuse to believe that. I'm sorry that you don't want me around. Maybe that can change soon. I want to help you. I know that you have Christopher and that you fully believe he's the right choice. I respect that and I will support you forever. I don't want to get in the way of what you have with him; I know it's special._

_So, for now, I write this letter with no intention of sending it soon. I have decided to send this letter six years from now; 2012. Until then, I will add to this letter with further apologies and anecdotes. _

_March 15__th__, 2007: Congratulations, Lorelai. I'm so proud of you. I wish you would forgive me; let me help in any way I can. But I know that this is impossible so long as Christopher is around. I get it; he hates me, and I hate him just as much. We have a mutual relationship going, and contact with me would only screw things up. Let him believe what he wants… I'm proud of you anyway._

_August 4__th__, 2007: I'm sorry I didn't say hi to you in Doose's. I was shocked to see you there. I'll say hi next time._

_August 21__st__, 2007: I'm sorry it was awkward._

_September 15__th__, 2007: The Dragonfly is one of the top twenty bed and breakfasts on the East Coast. You should be proud, Lorelai. You did it. I'm sorry I couldn't say this to you today when you stopped by the diner. I was out running errands._

_December 25__th__, 2007: Merry Christmas, Lorelai. _

_May 18__th__, 2008: I'm sorry, Lorelai. I truly am. I know he was important to you, and I know you loved him. _

_September 24__th__, 2008: I was the anonymous donor. I hope he gets well soon._

The dates went on and on, progressively getting closer and closer to the current month of the current year. She skimmed the rest, her eyes flying over the words as she tried to absorb them and understand their meaning. Tears were threatening her eyes, and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to hold them back.

_June 3__rd__, 2012: Six years later… the anniversary of what should have been. Of what I screwed up… I'm so sorry, Lorelai. Sorry for everything. I tried to find a way to say this over the past six years, but I never could… only recently have I found myself able to get this out—and it's on paper, at that. I just like to see you happy, Lorelai. That's all. I hope that my silence has given you the happiness you deserve._

"Luke…"

"I mean every word of that letter, Lorelai." His eyes were hardened with sincerity. "If I could take back the past six years… I wouldn't. I wouldn't change anything, Lorelai. You brought joy to Stars Hollow over the past six years. You brought—"

He was interrupted when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and he paused. His heart stopped, his eyes seemed to widen. Lorelai said nothing, didn't react. He waited stiffly, knowing who would walk into the kitchen but afraid nonetheless. He tried to calm his heart, inhaled deeply and exhaled just as rhythmically. _You can do this_, he told himself. It didn't seem to help.

"Henry," Lorelai greeted with a gentle smile.

"Mommy," the little boy, six years old, pouted. "My pencil broke."

She laughed, beckoning him towards her with her hand. He scurried towards her and climbed into her lap, wrapping his small arms around her neck. He had seen Luke only moments after appearing in the kitchen, and his foreign position in the house frightened him straight into Lorelai's lap. She drew her arms tightly around the boy, soothing him with soft words and running a hand through his nest of brown hair. She pulled back to introduce the two.

"This is Luke," she laughed. "You don't remember Luke. You met him once at the market, but you were a little boy then."

"Luke," the boy repeated the name confidently.

"Yes, Luke," Lorelai nodded. She looked up at Luke. "Luke… this is Henry."

"Henry." Luke repeated the name like a six-year-old.

"My son," she added.

Luke nodded. Her son. He knew that. He knew she had a son; he had met him outside Doose's, and he had seen him sporadically since then. He had always been worried about Henry; he had been a very sick baby, and underwent heavy treatment at the age of one. The town had raised a lot of money to support Lorelai and Henry—Christopher had left shortly before, finding the stress of Henry's situation too much to handle—and Luke's donation had been the biggest of all. An anonymous donation, but a donation nonetheless. It had been the donation that solidified the treatment.

Luke could see Lorelai clearly in the boy. His brown hair was the same as Lorelai's; his eyes just as beautiful. Henry seemed to be the perfect imitation of his mother. The boy, still apprehensive around this strange man in his home, slid from his mother's lap. He looked up at her expectantly.

"So if your pencil broke, you need to…" Lorelai prompted him.

"Sharpen it!" he answered brightly.

"Yes! With the…?"

"Sharpen-y thing-y," Henry seemed to echo a common phrase in the Gilmore household because Lorelai nodded proudly and pointed him in the right direction. Luke chuckled and earned a teasing glare from Lorelai.

"Same Lorelai," he observed.

"Ah yes, my personality tends to remain linear," she agreed.

They were quiet. Awkward silence passed between them as Luke stared at the floor and Lorelai watched Henry struggle with the pencil sharpener. The whirl of the sharpener was the only thing disrupting the uneasy silence, and it was soon accompanied by Henry's off-tune, off-beat humming to _Follow the Yellow Brick Road_.

"The acorn doesn't fall far from the tree," Luke observed.

Lorelai smiled. "He's perfect."

Luke nodded his agreement. Perfect. That was a good word to describe the entire Gilmore clan. Since Lorelai's divorce, she had dropped Christopher's name, as had Henry. Henry went from Henry Hayden to Henry Gilmore—a confusing change for a (then) one-year-old. Henry had grown up in a world like Rory's; a world of books, magic, love, and a world with mother who loved him unconditionally.

"He is at that."

"He's yours."

Luke looked up in surprise. It had always been a deep-rooted hope of his, but he had never expected to be right. He had always thought Lorelai acted strange when he interacted with Henry as an infant. Then, he had dismissed it as nothing more than the aftermath of their breakup. But now he knew it had been something more.

"He's…what?"

"He's… not Christopher's son. He's yours."

Luke looked at Henry. Henry turned back to him. And now Luke could see it clearly. He could see some of his father in Henry—in his refined jaw and darker skin (darker than that of Lorelai's and Christopher's, anyway—dark like his own). He was suddenly overcome with emotions, emotions he had trouble communicating through words.

His gaze switched between mother and son disbelievingly. He needed more.

Lorelai seemed to read his reaction, for she now spoke.

"I slept with Christopher, but I was already pregnant by then… pregnant with him. I let Christopher believe Henry was his. Hell, I thought Henry was his. But Christopher could see the truth the minute Henry was born. There wasn't an inch of Chris in Henry; he saw that clearly. He saw _you_. And that was all I saw, too… Henry William. That's his name. Chris picked Henry, and I picked William… for your father. I couldn't name him Henry Lucas the serial killer… so I named him William. Henry William. Christopher left when Henry was eight months old; Henry's sickness was too much for him. It put a lot of stress on us, and it tore us apart… he couldn't handle it. Without him—without his money—Henry wasn't going to make it… he had cut off contact with us just when it was turning for the worst. I couldn't believe he wouldn't answer the phone or return my calls… but at the same time… I could believe it."

"I knew you were the anonymous donor, Luke. You've always been there for me and for Rory. I didn't know how to thank you so I didn't say anything, didn't _do _anything. But I… I don't know how to thank you. I didn't let you have a part in Henry's life, and I'm sorry. I wanted Henry to be Chris's… I _needed _Henry to be Chris's… I wanted it so badly, I wouldn't believe the truth. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I deprived you of the same thing Anna did. I'm sorry that I persuaded myself into thinking this was for the best…"

He had never heard Lorelai talk so much without cracking a single joke, and he silently applauded her. He didn't know where the sudden unleash of emotions had come from, but the fact that they were now pouring the thoughts of the past six years out to each other gave him hope for the future.

Somehow, they were on their way to recovery, no matter how slow it was.

Henry had since retreated upstairs, leaving Luke and Lorelai to ponder in silence once more.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, Lorelai. I told you," he motioned to the letter, "none of this would have happened if—"

"If I hadn't postponed the wedding," Lorelai interrupted firmly. "I gave you time with April… but I didn't want to wait. I shouldn't have done that. I should have told you how I felt…"

"And I should have told you about April from the start."

"So we both have our hands in this."

"Yes we do."

"I should have at least come by the diner more often…"

"Yeah, there's no one to drink all the surplus of coffee," Luke agreed.

She cracked a smile. He grinned foolishly.

"Well… hakuna matata," Lorelai shrugged.

"Hakuna what?"

"It means 'no worries,' Luke."

"Right."

"It's from the Lion King."

"Uh huh."

"I'm not crazy."

"Of course you're not."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not patronizing you!"

Their regular banter seemed to be back, and nothing made Luke happier.

They were one step closer to being where they had been six years ago, but he wasn't going to rush it. There was a whole world open to them now—a vast new field of unexplored territory—and it was waiting for them to explore it. Together.

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><p>Loose ending is loose. But hey, use your imagination.<p>

I also ended it this way so that, if I wanted to and felt like it, I could expand this.

- Puppet


End file.
